


Can I panic now?

by waitingfover



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Family Angst, Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingfover/pseuds/waitingfover
Summary: Short one shots of Fëanor and the birth of each of his sons.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Kudos: 12





	1. First time for everything

The months leading up to the birth of their first born, Fëanor was far more nervous than Nerdanel. For the first time in his life, he felt plagued by self-doubt and he let the feeling consume him. He found he was incapable of thinking of anything else. He had already built more toys than any one child could ever want. Nerdanel quickly put a stop to his tinkering when he started trying to “baby proof” the furniture by sawing off corners and padding edges. Unable to vent his energy in his normal fashion, Fëanor took to pacing. It didn’t help.  
  
“Nel, what if something goes wrong?” Fëanor asked one evening towards the end of Nerdanel’s third trimester. He was feeling more agitated than normal.  
“It won’t, and even if something did, we’ll be at the hospital,” Nerdanel continued lazily reading her magazine. She was propped up on the couch, her swollen belly hidden beneath the folds of her loose cotton dress.  
“What if I don’t make a good father?” Fëanor started his pacing routine, arms crossed firmly across his chest. The oppressive heat of summer outside made the room feel smaller than it was.  
“Fëanáro Curufinwë, why on earth would you think that?” Nerdanel look up with exasperation.  
“I just…I don’t… why did we…. Kids don’t like me,” Fëanor stammered.  
“And how do you know that?”  
“My half-sibling didn’t.”  
“Maybe that’s because you didn’t give them a chance,” Nerdanel pointed out, “But what does that have to do with our child and you supposedly not being a good father?”  
Fëanor didn’t answer for several minutes. He settled lightly on the edge of the couch next Nerdanel.  
“I know I have …. faults. My temper, among other things. My half-brothers take joy in pointing them out every opportunity they can,” Fëanor finally ground out. He hated admitting his weakness, even to his wife.  
“Náro, you’ll do fine. Trust me, everything will turn out alright,” Nerdanel comfortingly patted his shoulder.  
  
For the next week and a half, Fëanor felt a sense of peace from Nerdanel’s confidence. Fëanor’s temporary calm flew out the window when Nerdanel’s contractions started. Fëanor tried in vain to stop the shaking in his hands as he drove to the hospital. Nerdanel labored for 16 long hours. With every passing minute, Fëanor’s anxiety grew.  
  
His mind was entering overdrive. Normally, he poured that quality into his work, but now it tormented him. It flew to everything possible thing that could go wrong. What if the child got stuck and they had to perform an emergency C-section? What if Nerdanel died and he had to raise the child on his own? What if the child died? How would he and Nerdanel deal with that? What if the child grew up and didn’t like him? What if he really did turn out to be a bad father?  
  
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he started badly when a piercing wail shattered the room. He looked up in time to see the doctor hand the baby off to a nurse to get cleaned up. He gave his wife a shocked look, not quite believing that the baby had arrived. Nerdanel smiled tiredly back at him. Flushed with exertion and covered in sweat, Nerdanel still more radiant than Fëanor had ever seen her.  
  
The nurse returned shortly with the baby, placing her crying charge in Nerdanel’s arms. Fëanor leaned over to look at his new son. The infant had downy auburn hair a shade darker than Nerdanel’s hair. His tiny nose was wrinkled as he squalled, wanting to be fed. A patch of slightly discolored skin stretched from the baby’s forehead, next to his right eye down to the middle of his cheek. All in all the baby was gorgeous, in Fëanor’s opinion.  
“Maitimo Nelyafinwë,” he whispered to his wife later when they were in a private room.  
“Mmmm, yes,” Nerdanel agreed. Fëanor took his tiny son in his arms, still not quiet believing that he was a father.  
“See, nothing to worry about,” Nerdanel murmured as she drifted off to sleep.  
“Worried? When was I worried?” Fëanor snorted in mock disbelief, rocking the new infant gently in his arms.


	2. Surprise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***I am not a doctor, so this is probably inaccurate...***

It was Nelyo's second birthday. The little redhead had opened the gifts from his grandparents. Finwë and Indis were relaxing in the living room, keeping Nelyo occupied while Fëanor finished cutting the cake. He was preparing to dish the cake when Nerdanel, who had been putting away dinner dishes, gave a small gasp of surprise. 

"Náro?" Her voice was strained.

"Hmmm?" Fëanor paused what he was doing. 

"My water just broke…"

"What? Are you sure?" Fëanor's brow creased in concern. Nerdanel gave a small nod. 

"But you’re not due for another month and a half,” Fëanor stared at his wife in horror. 

"I know…" Nerdanel's voice was faint. Fëanor swore colorfully before ushering his wife towards the garage. 

"Atto?" a little voice asked as they passed the living room. Nelyo was watching his parents in confusion. 

"Your brother wants to join us for your birthday, so you'll be staying with your grandparents," Fëanor tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he send pleading looks to his father. Finwë and Indis excehanged a concerned look before Finwë scooped the little boy up. 

"Of you'll be staying with us Nelyo till your brother comes," Finwë's deep voice calmed a bit of Fëanor's jitters. Then they were out the door and racing to the hospital. 

Nerdanel's labor was hilariously short compared to that of their first born. Her short labor was due in part the tiny size of their second son. He wasn’t even half the size that Nelyo had been. As soon as the child was out, Fëanor knew something was wrong. The child did not cry or move at all. Gripping Nerdanel's hand, Fëanor watched the nurses anxiously. A short while later, the baby was whisked out of the room. Nerdanel was cleaned up and Fëanor joined her again in a private hospital room. 

After what felt like a lifetime, a grim doctor entered the room. He took a deep breath before breaking the news to them. 

“Your son was admitted to the NICU. He’s currently on life support because his lungs keep collapsing. I can take one of you to see him shortly. As you are aware, he was born very prematurely. His retinas, lungs and brain are not fully developed. There is no kind way of saying this: there is a high chance that he won't make it."

Fëanor felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. A few minutes later, Fëanor was led to a different ward to a small bed encased in clear fiberglass. The tiny body inside had numerous wires and tubes snaking around it. The babe's eyes were tightly closed. A soft blue striped hat adorned his little head. The sight made Fëanor feel sick. Pressing a hand against the fiberglass, he felt tears trickle down his face. 

Later that night Finwë called to check up on them. 

“Fëanor? I hadn't heard anything, so I just wanted to check and see if everything was alright?”

“Atto…” Fëanor’s voice was choked. He looked over at Nerdanel who was sleeping now. Her face was drawn in pain for her new born even while she slept. 

“Fëanor?”

“He…he… the doctors don’t know if he’ll make it."

"You have to believe in him Fëanor. He'll be a fighter, I know it."

For five months that their second son lived in the NICU, only Nerdanel and Fëanor were allowed to see him. Nelyo was surprisingly patient with the whole situation. He stayed with Finwë and Indis soaking up their attention while Nerdanel and Fëanor traded off at the hospital. October rolled around with the birth of Fingolfin’s second child Turgon and still their son remained in the NICU. Finally, on Christmas Eve, they were allowed to go home. Fëanor stopped by his father’s house to pick up Nelyo and show off his second son. The family was gathered in the living room around the tree. Indis was helping Nelyo hang ornaments on the tree while Finwë heartily applauded every time the toddler got one to stay. Finwë caught sight of his son in the doorway and beckoned him over. 

“Ah, Fëanor, so glad you could make it, we were just about to finish decorating the tree!” Finwë smiled at his worn down son.

“Then it’s just as well that I brought an early Christmas present,” Fëanor tiredly smiled back. It was then that Finwë noticed the bassinet that Fëanor was carrying. Fëanor tenderly pulled back the blanket draped over the top. Finwë peered at the infant asleep inside. He was still much smaller than any of his other grandchildren had been, even at birth. An oxygen cannula ran to his nose. His downy hair was jet black like Fëanor's. Finwë could see his one of little hand was wrapped tightly around the oxygen tube. He cooed at his tiny grandson and ran a finger down the soft face. 

“Atto, meet Makalaurë Kanafinwë."

"That's a big name for such a small child," Finwë commented, lifting Nelyo up so that he could meet his little brother. 

"Oh, I think he'll live up to," Fëanor laughed quietly. 


	3. Three is company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nelyo is about 3.5 years old and Makalaurë is about 1.5 years old.

As luck would have it, Fëanor’s third son was born on the same day Fingolfin’s third child. The birth was easy for Nerdanel. Despite going into labor after Anairë, Fëanor’s son was born an hour before Fingolfin’s daughter. Though Nerdanel scolded him and told him it wasn’t a race, he was pleased that his son was older than his brother’s child. 

There was nothing unusual about the babe, save for the fact that his wispy hair was bleach blond. Nerdanel said she was glad he was out because he kicked far more than either of their other two sons. 

Fëanor stopped by the lobby to retrieve their other children from Finwë, who had been watching them. He ran into Fingolfin there, gathering his sons as well. 

“Fëanor! So glad that I have your daughter and you have my son,” Fingolfin’s face was split by a mischievous grin.

“What are you talking about?” Fëanor demanded, confused as to Fingolfin was talking about. 

“Well, I do believe that the hospital must have switched our children at birth. After all brother, where did the blond hair come from on your side? At least my wife is blonde. It’s either that or he’s not _your_ son,” came the quippy response. 

Fëanor wanted to punch his younger half-brother for that last comment, but refrained from doing so with children watching. Thankfully Finwë stepped in. 

“Fëanor was blond when he was born. His hair darkened as he got older. It’s not at all unusual for that to happen,” the patriarch pointed out. 

“My point still stands,” Fingolfin shrugged. Fëanor glared daggers at his half-brother. Snatching up Makalaurë from the floor, he took Nelyo’s hand and marched away with all the dignity he could muster. Nelyo wined briefly as he was dragged away from his playmate. Fëanor was forced to wait as Nelyo tugged his hand from his father’s grip and turned to wave good bye to his cousin. As they walked away, Fëanor heard Fingolfin’s oldest happily chatting about his new sibling and cousin. 

“Atto, they is going to be best-est friends like Nel-o and me,” Fingon announced. 

“Eru save us all if he’s correct,” Fëanor murmured as he led the way to Nerdanel's room. Nerdanel lay in the bed, holding the new baby as her family charged in. Nelyo spotted her and ran to the bed, climbing up next to her with some difficulty. 

“What the baby’s name?” Nelyo asked, eyeing the baby in excitement.

“Tyelkormo Turcafinwë,” Fëanor proudly told his other sons. 

“Tel-kurma Torka-finay,” Nelyo happily clapped his hand. 

“Close, very close,” Fëanor laughed at his son's enhusiasm. 

“Can I holds him now? Please, amë, please?” Nelyo pleaded, his chubby hands grabbing at Nerdanel’s precious, blanket wrapped bundle. Nerdanel gently explained to him why he wasn’t allowed to hold the baby right now. 

While Nelyo was enthralled with his new brother, Makalaurë was terrified. He hid behind Fëanor’s legs, sucking his thumb and refusing to come over and greet Tyelko. 

“Do you want to come over and say hello?” Nerdanel coaxed.

The toddler shook his head emphatically and remained in his “hiding place” behind his father. Fëanor turned and knelt in from of Makalaurë. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to say hi?” He asked with a smile. Then before Makalaurë could scoot away, Fëanor scooped him up.

“See Maka, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said gently taking Makalaurë’s small hand and placing on the baby. As fate would have it, that was when little Tyelko decided to wake up with a scream. Makalaurë flinched back and buried his face in Fëanor’s shoulder. Nerdanel shooed them out of the room as she fed the newest member of their family. 

As they waited out in the hall for Nerdanel to finish. Nelyo tugged on Fëanor's arm incessantly. 

“What do you need Nelyo?” Fëanor sighed. The red head didn’t answer, he simply pointed to his younger brother. It was then that Fëanor realized that the child in his arms as quivering violently. 

“Maka?” Fëanor could feel tears wetting his shirt. 

“S'rry,” Makalaurë cried, “S’rry.” 

Strangely enough that was one of the few words he had somewhat mastered. Thankfully Fëanor had an idea of what had upset Makalaurë.

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, your new brother was just hungry.”

“Hungry? Me too! Me too!” Nelyo was jumping up and down with excitement. Fëanor cringed, mentally berating himself for bring up food in Nelyo’s presence. That child was like a human garbage disposal, yet he never seemed to gain any weight, only height. Fëanor looked down to see that Makalaurë had stopped crying and was now looking at him with pleading grey eyes. The appeal of food distracing him from his tears. 

“Fine,” Fëanor sighed, “We’ll go get something to eat.” 


	4. And thus the chaos expands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nelyo is about 4.5 years old, Makalaurë is about 2.5 while Tyelko is about 11 months old

It was snowing the day Fëanor’s fourth son entered the world. The family awoke to a winter wonderland. It wasn’t much, not even an inch, but the boys were excited. They were soon bundled up and romping, or in Tyelko’s case crawling, through the soft powder. All to soon in Nerdanel’s opinion, they came back in, soaked, rosy-cheeked and happy. By lunch snow had begun to fall again. The flakes were small at first, but soon they were large and wet.  
  
Tyelko stood pressed against the sliding glass door and watched the snow float gently down, occasionally attempting to grab the flakes through the glass. He quickly became frustrate when his pudgy fists didn’t go through the door. He wailed and loudly banged on the door until Fëanor scooped him up and put him down for a nap. Makalaurë soon followed, leaving Nelyo as the only child wake. He sat “reading" one of his picture books to his sleeping brothers, making up a story as he went. The peace was not to last, however.  
  
“I’m sorry Fëanor, we have to go hospital. He’ll be along soon,” Nerdanel told her husband, messaging her belly.  
“What?” Fëanor looked up from his sketches somewhat startled.  
“Contractions started a few hours ago?”  
“And you didn’t tell me?”  
“It’s not my first rodeo. I know how long it can take and I really don’t want to spend the whole time in the hospital,” Nerdanel replied nonchalantly.  
“You do realize that it’s blizzarding outside? We should have gone when the storm was lighter,” Fëanor complained, shrugging into his coat.  
“It’ll be fine,” Nerdanel smiled, making her way to gather the children.   
  
The snow was coming down thickly as Fëanor and Nerdanel bundled the still sleeping Tyelko, a groggy and somewhat grumpy Makalaurë and a worried Nelyo into the car. They dropped the boys off with Nerdanel’s father before starting the trek to the hospital.  
  
The snow had not stopped in its fury and the roads were dangerously slippery. Fëanor drove as fast as he dared. They were nearly to the hospital when the traffic slowed to a crawl, the car lost traction in the snow as Fëanor tried to stop and skidded several feet, almost rear ending the car in front of them. It was only when they had come to a complete stop that Fëanor somewhat loosened his death grip on the steering wheel. It did nothing for Fëanor’s adrenaline level when Nerdanel who had thus far been panting in the seat next to him gave a groan of pain.  
  
“Náro, he’s coming now!” Nerdanel gasped.  
“Yes, yes I know, we’re nearly there. I’m driving as fast as I can,” Fëanor tried placating his wife while trying to keep the car on the road.   
“No, he’s coming now,” Nerdanel made a long, keening call, gipping the armrest. A few minutes later as Fëanor pulled up to the hospital’s emergency entrance, a small wail filled the car.  
  
Panicking, Fëanor dashed inside. He somehow manage to get the emergency staff to understand his panicked, half-coherent sentences. Nerdanel and her new born were whisked inside. There was nothing more that the hospital could do besides checking on the health of the mother and child. Satisfied that they were healthy and there were no complications, they were promptly discharged.  
  
The snow still hadn’t let up as they drove to pick up their other sons. Mahtan was thrilled to meet the new little one.  
“What’s ‘is name?” He asked.  
“Carnister Morifinwë,” Nerdanel told her father.  
“Whys he all reds?” Nelyo asked, poking the baby before either of his parents could intervene.  
“First thing, Nelyo, we don’t poke people, especially babies. Secondly, you were red when you were born as well,” Fëanor told him.  
“No wasn’t,” the little boy pouted.


	5. Not another one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nelyo is 5.5 years old, Makalaurë is 3.5 years old, Tyelko is 2 years old and Moryo is 13 months

When Nerdanel announced she was pregnant again, she received mix reactions. Fëanor was excited, cooing at the small bump where the child grew. Nelyo was indifferent, ignoring the announcement in favor of practicing his name with a crayon. Tyelko was confused, not quiet sure how a baby would be growing in his mother. Moryo woke up crying, though Nerdanel didn’t think that counted. Makalaurë was upset. He hid under his bed and refused to come out for quiet some time.

Nerdanel finally managed to lure her second oldest out with fresh cookies. She set the plate down just out of reach of the small, groping hand forcing Makalaurë to crawl out to retrieve them. Nerdanel scooped him up before he could scoot back under. She plopped down on the bed and set her son next to her. Makalaurë sat there stiff for a minute before hesitantly nibbling on his cookie. He slowly started relaxing against Nerdanel. When Makalaurë stared on his second cookie, Nerdanel broached the subject at hand.

“Maka, what’s wrong?” Nerdanel asked, ruffling the dark hair. The little body pressed closer to her side before answering.  
“Don’t want 'nother brother,” Makalaurë mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.  
“Why not?”  
“Too much loud.”  
“It could be a sister,” Nerdanel pointed out.  
“Don’t want sister neither,” came the sullen response.  
“Well then, what do you want?”  
“Kitty-cat?” Makalaurë asked hopefully. He turned his large grey eyes up to his mother’s face.  
“Maybe when you’re a little older,” Nerdanel laughed and wiped crumbs off the small chin.  
“Promise?”  
“I promise Little One.”  
“M’Kay I’m older now. If I gets a kitty-cat then you can gives the baby to Tyelko,” Makalaurë bargained reaching for another cookie. Nerdanel moved the plate out of reach.  
“That’s not the way that works Maka, it’ll be your little sibling too. And just think, it will be someone else for you to sing to.”  
“Kay, only for singing. The baby is still for Tyelko,” Makalaurë finally conceded. Nerdanel smiled and shook her head before placing a kiss on Makalaurë’s forehead.

The birth of the fifth Fëanorion was long, almost as long as Nelyo’s had been. By the time the little boy was born his parents were exhausted. It was late by the time Fëanor picked up his other sons from his father’s house. Only Nelyo and Makalaurë were still awake to meet the new baby.

Nelyo took one look before pronouncing his judgement.  
“He looks like Moryo, but smaller,” Nelyo said without much interest.  
Makalaurë bypassed the sleeping baby in favor of cuddling next to Nerdanel. Eventually he reached out a small hand to pet the newborn’s downy hair. He was surprisingly gentle for a three year old.  
“His name is Atarinkë Curufinwë,” Fëanor both of his present sons.  
“Don’t like that name,” Makalaurë little nose wrinkled. If Fëanor was honest, he wasn’t overly thrilled about the name either, but both and Nerdanel had been too tired to come up with a better name.  
“Everyone’s a critic now,” Fëanor sighed dramatically, “Fine, what name would you suggest?”  
“Lapsë,” Makalaurë decided after a minute of thought.  
“You would name him “little baby”?” Fëanor asked.  
“Yes,” Makalaurë nodded his head sleepily, “Because he is not a kitty-cat.”


	6. Two for the price of one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nelyo is 8.5 years old, Makalaurë is 6.5 years old, Tyelko is 5 years old while Moryo is 4 and Curvo is 3

By the time Nerdanel was pregnant a sixth time, she was tired of spending time in the hospital. She insisted that this child was born at home. Fëanor didn’t protest. A home birth would be less stress for everyone involved, or at least that’s what he told himself.  
  
The children were off at school or Mahtan’s house. The days leading up to the birth, their five other sons were temporarily living with Nerdanel’s father. Fëanor hoped the child was born sooner rather than later so he wouldn’t have to pay for therapy for his father-in-law.  
  
With out their other children, the house was unusually quiet. Fëanor didn’t like it. He was used to the chaos and noise. Glancing over at his wife, he knew it wouldn’t be quiet for much longer.  
  
“This one’s a girl,” Nerdanel patted her stomach as another contraction passed, “I can tell. She feels different than all of the other children I’ve carried.”  
“Really?” Fëanor placed a hand on the swell, but he couldn’t feel anything different, “It feels the same to me.”   
Nerdanel gave a small laugh and patted his cheek.  
“You’ll see. It will be a beautiful girl.”  
Fëanor just raised an eyebrow and shook his head.  
  
The birth went on all night. House births, Fëanor decided, were no calmer than hospital births.  
  
“I swear Fëanáro Curufinwë, if I have to push one more being out of my body after this, I will make you pay. This is the last one,” Nerdanel panted.  
“Last ones,” the midwife corrected with a smile, “It’s twins.”   
Fëanor gulped at the murderous look his wife leveled at him. He quickly excused himself from the room. Leaning against the kitchen sink, Fëanor felt his head whirling. Twins. He wasn’t ready for that. Oh, Valar, they were going to have-  
  
Fëanor’s train of thought was cut off by a cry from the other room. Fëanor hurried back to his wife’s side. Nerdanel gripped his hand so fiercely, Fëanor was fairly sure she had broken bones there. Finally the first child arrived.  
  
“Congratulation, a son!” the midwife announced, cleaning off the baby and swaddling him. The squirming and thoroughly unhappy bundle was placed in Fëanor’s arms.  
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Fëanor held the babe awkwardly, looking back and forth between his new son and his wife.  
“Hold him while I deliver the other one,” the midwife told him. The twin slipped out a few minutes later.  
“Girl?” Nerdanel’s voice was hoarse, but hopeful.  
“Nope! Another boy!” the midwife was far too cheerful for Fëanor’s liking. The second infant in Nerdanel’s arms was identical to the one in Fëanor’s arms save for a small birthmark on his left ankle and being slightly small in body size.  
“What should we name this one?” Fëanor asked, bouncing his charge slightly in an effort to calm the squalling baby.  
“Ambarussa.”  
“And that one?”  
“Ambarussa.”  
“You want to name them both Ambarussa?” Fëanor wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. Nerdanel shrugged.  
“Why not? I don’t have any other names. I was so sure it was girl, so I’ve only been thinking of girl names,” she sighed longingly, though she snuggled her newborn lovingly.  
“But they can’t have the same name!” Fëanor exclaimed.  
“Then you choose; I care not.”  
“Pityafinwë Ambarussa and Telufinwë Ambarussa,” Fëanor said after a moment.  
“Which is which?”  
“Telufinwë is this one,” Fëanor nodded to the twin he held, “because we thought he was the last one. And that one is Pityafinwë because he is smaller than his twin.”  
Nerdanel raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. 


End file.
